


the one.

by yoonspec



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, highschool sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoonspec/pseuds/yoonspec
Summary: your highschool boyfriend of two years flees the country just months before graduation, leaving you angry and heartbroken.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	the one.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing a vernon thing & i couldn't tell you why i'm so angsty.

You smash your fist against the steering wheel of the car in anger as the bridge of the taylor swift song plays. The sudden honk earns you a few looks from the passerby and you don't care. You have exactly thirty five minutes between class and your part time job and this was day one of him not waiting for you in the halls, so you'd decided to spend it thinking about how love was bullshit.   
You smash your fist against it again, twice. "Fuck" you sigh. "Fuck".   
You throw your head back and scrunch your face knowing you only have twenty five minutes left and you can't have a proper cry until way later when you're home and your parents are sleeping. Your hand roams the dashboard to turn the volume up and you allow yourself a few sobs that shake your chest, face still scrunched up to keep the tears from spilling out. Fuck love songs. And fuck vernon. 

He didn't say anything until two days prior, sitting in his family car at the mcdonald's parking lot. He hadn't been quiet or nervous, hadn't acted differently at all. "I have to tell you something," he said all of a sudden when the school talk died down, "I'm finishing the term early".   
"What do you mean, like, skipping graduation?" You asked.  
He rolled his eyes pensively, and a pang of anxiety crept through your stomach. "I already did all my exams, so technically, I’m done".  
You put your burger back down in the bag and held onto your words knowing it was best to let him do the talking before you even attempted to ask any more questions.  
"I'm," he stuttered, but held eye contact, "I'm leaving town. I'm going to Korea."   
"What? Wait... After prom? When are you coming back?"   
He sighed and reached out to hold one of your hands in his, his head dropping slightly, his eyes looking around trying to find the words or maybe just hide. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I just wanted us to be normal for as long as possible."   
You realized, then, that it wouldn't be temporary. You realized, then, that prom and graduation were off and so was your time together. The last two years that you spent together were off, torn away by a twelve hour difference, seven thousand miles and the toll of his decision.  
"My audition got through, they're having me for the trainee program starting monday."  
Tears pooled in your eyes and quickly fell down your face, "What do you mean?" You sobbed, taking your hands to your face in an attempt to hide yourself, to block away his words so that you wouldn't have to take them in. His hands gripped your arms and he pulled you into his chest, your back shaking with a helpless cry. 

He left on a Friday.   
He said everything would be fine, he said you'd call and text and that you'd figure out a routine so that you wouldn't be calling each other in the middle of the night. He said to text him anytime if you were stressed, or sad, or lonely, or overwhelmed. He said he'd be there for you always, and you nodded your head so you wouldn't break his heart in return. And when you stood in the airport sad and alone and overwhelmed, your phone didn't have any bars, and he was gone for good.

So when the taylor swift song comes on, you cry. Not because it's sad, but because it's a lie. And you get so angry that you have to cut your nails short because you kept hurting your palms from clenching your fists all the time. And you resent him. You resent him for following his dreams, or for having any for that matter. You resent him for his supportive parents, who are paying crazy amounts just for the possibility that he might make it. You resent him for leaving you in the worst possible moment. You resent him for breaking your heart to be happy.   
You check your phone to the have-a-good-day text he sent you as he went to bed and you were waking up. You didn't reply because you knew he wouldn't see it anyway, and because you didn't even know what to say, didn't know how to act. What good would it do to talk about how your parents don’t stop pressuring you to get into an ivy league, about how you can’t sleep at night, about how food has lost its taste to you. You grab your bag, you put your glasses on and go to work. 

You keep your phone on you at the dinner table, knowing he'll be up soon and that he might call. You flinch at every notification, and your mom reminds you that phones aren't allowed during meals.  
"It's just that Vernon might call", you explain, sounding nearly embarrassed.  
"Now that your boyfriend is in another country i'm hoping you'll make some progress on your college essay", your dad remarks.   
You nod your head and shift your food around with your fork. You’re exhausted.   
"Maybe I'll quit my job", you comment.  
Your parents share a confused look. "Your job is important, work experience is valued for college. I take it you still want to get into college, right? Not be a reality show star or something..." Your dad ends with a chuckle.   
You sigh and continue to eat in silence. They could at least acknowledge how sad you've been, instead they can't contain their excitement about the fact that your boyfriend is finally out of the picture and you can now focus on being the daughter they wish you were.

You sit in front of the computer and you try to write, your parents encourage you and sometimes ask you what you’re doing instead of doing your schoolwork or working on your essay. They talk about their expectations for you and how you’ll become a doctor if you just put your head down and study harder. Your cheeks hollow out, you have a permanent headache, you rely on countless cups of coffee to make it through the day because you have no energy, but can’t seem to be able to rest. Your friends call and make plans and each time you say you can’t make it, you stop replying to his texts, too. 

The first time you pass out you’re leaving class. You lose balance as you stand from your desk and simply fall limp onto the floor. You black out. 

“Please eat something”, your mom’s plea is accompanied by an array of dishes in a tray she leaves on your night table. “I know you’re stressed with school, you need to eat so that you have energy”.

You sit up on the bed and look away from her, unable to hold her gaze as you feel the tears coming. She kneels beside your bed and holds your hands in hers. 

“I know it hurts that he’s gone, but you have to keep going”, she whispers. 

You break down.

By the time the end of the school year rolls around, all you’ve received are rejection letters from universities. Your parents' disappointment doesn’t come as a surprise, but that’s the least of your worries. 

“I don’t know what to do”, you whisper into your laptop after pressing the record button in photobooth. You run your hands through your hair restlessly. “This is probably the worst year of my life”, you chuckle, no joy in it whatsoever. “Since, um, you left, I don’t know what happened to me.” You take a few seconds to pull yourself together. “Back in sophomore year when we met, I was so happy… When we started dating everything was… it was just good, and even the stuff that was bad wasn’t that bad, because we had each other.” You took a few deep breaths before deciding to continue. “I know you’re doing well, I know you’re being successful and that you’re working hard… and I don’t want to burden you with all of this, I know you’re happy. I’m sorry I stopped replying, I just… I miss you so much that I can’t do anything.” You feel your throat closing up. "I still can't believe you left me." 

You consider sending him the video, but decide against it. You convert it into an audio clip and post it onto a secret twitter account just because sometimes it’s comforting to scream into the void. When you lay in bed later, you start thinking about your options. It’s either community college for whatever your parents want you to go for or getting an underpaying job. You allow the idea of following his steps to roam around your mind once you start to fall asleep, you half imagine-half dream of the moment you’re reunited and nothing has changed between the two of you. That night you dream of him. 

When you wake up, it feels different. After months of seeing everything covered in a thin layer of anger and sadness and resentment, you feel hope. You smile for the first time in months, and your eyes shine when you bring it up to your parents, absolutely sure that you can do this. You sign up to dance lessons, you clean up your diet, you start studying korean, you make plans and save every penny. You make lists of things you’ll do and places you’ll go and at night when you’re in bed feeling soreness in your muscles, you see it all coming together: you nail your audition, you surprise him, you’re both happy again, together. 

Your parents send you off on borrowed time: one year. It’s more than enough, you think, to make everything good again, to start over new: you change your number, you delete your social media and you ready yourself to be a new, better you. You should see it coming when it becomes hard, but you really don’t. The standards seem to be higher, and in your auditions you’re not remarkable like you were back home. You sit in waiting rooms full of girls that seem to be more energetic, more charismatic and more talented than you. They hang out in groups and look you up and down before whispering to each other not caring if you can hear or not; who does she think she is, why does she look like that, what is she doing here, what is she wearing, people from overseas really think they got it when they don’t. You hear it all, all the time.

In your small room at the shared boarding house you keep tabs of everything you spend and everything you do: food, transportation, practice, exercise… You try to stay positive, you go on walks and explore by yourself and you find comfort in your new social media gathering likes from people all over the world. A few months with no good news from any agencies, you try to reach out further, and get lucky when someone reaches out for you to do an assisting job at a photo studio. Your heart feels lighter, then, knowing that you’ll put yourself together and you’ll be ready to contact him soon. You thought you’d contact him when you got into a trainee program yourself, but if things turned out differently, you wouldn’t be too upset; as long as the final goal can be met. You just want to be prepared to offer the best of you, to show all of your hard work and to be deserving of a new chance in his new life. You don’t expect it to happen the way it does, you don’t expect him to react like this. 

You feel your stomach sink when you see him first, getting his makeup done mindlessly scrolling on his phone and bickering with one of the other members. You’re too far away to hear anything of what he’s saying but he looks like a movie, like a dream. His side profile is slightly more defined from your point of view, you wonder if he lost weight or just grew up, and you want so badly to run to him and ask him if he’s okay, if he’s taking care of himself, if he’s sleeping well, if he missed you. A piece of equipment slides from your hands and clatters on the floor, earning you looks and scoldings from your superiors. When he sees you, he clenches his jaw, and when you look back up to meet his eyes, they’re cold and turn away quickly. 

You exchange bows with all of them as the work day comes to an end, and you make yourself accessible by staying close to the door. He passes you by without another look. 

Can you take it? Getting your heart broken twice by the same person? Pretending that you’re not? The thoughts don’t let you sleep, louder than the cars passing by and the music coming from somewhere else in the house. At 1 am you end up messaging him on Instagram. 

“Hey. I didn’t want us to meet like this, but since we did, maybe we could talk?”

His response comes quickly.

“Why did you delete your social media? I couldn’t find you”  
“How are you here”  
“What is happening”  
“You haven’t texted me in months”

You sigh to yourself, turning the screen off for a second to consider the fact that he didn’t say he missed you at all.

“I’m sorry”  
“I’m just figuring things out”

“You’re figuring things out here? Across the world?”

“You came here first”

“I had a plan.”

“Well maybe I do too”

“Does your plan include me by any chance?”

“Only if you want it to”

He doesn’t reply anymore, instead, he calls. “You didn’t text for months, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore”, he whispers to the best of his ability over the phone, and you bring your knees closer to your chest to hide your face between them. “I’ve missed you like crazy”, he finishes, his voice an octave higher. You bask in the feeling, in his voice, and can’t help your tears. “Long distance fucking sucks”, you whimper. He sighs in frustration when you try to find a moment to meet up: he’s extremely busy and also knows he can’t just all of a sudden have a girlfriend just before he makes his debut. “I’ll figure it out”, he promises, “just please reply to my texts, okay?”

You wish that you could see him immediately, but by now you’re getting used to things not going the way you want them to. Your patience pays off.

His hair had grown out slightly, wavy bangs sitting on top of his eyebrows, his sharp jaw clenching the same way his hands did, sunk into his sweats’ pockets with nervousness. He sees you from the corner of his eye and offers a smile that you’ve been craving for months, coming towards you chest first to wrap you in his arms. He’s warm and strong and feels like honey and home. You melt into him. He holds your hand and buys you ice cream and you beam at the sight of this dream of yours manifesting before your very eyes. 

You snuck him into your bedroom hurriedly with both of you failing to suppress giggles; you lock the door behind you. “This is it”, you say just louder than a whisper. 

“You’re lucky you’re not rooming”, he replies, and you shrug. “I missed you”, he says for the millionth time today. 

When you kiss, it feels like a new ocean that has just formed, like islands in the middle of nowhere, like pouring rain when the sun’s still out, like doors breaking open in a never ending corridor; like arriving home. You get goosebumps and you want more and you never want to let go. You nuzzle into him and let him roam around your body like you’ve been yearning for him to do, relishing the feeling that you took for granted until it was taken away. “I love you”, you mutter, and he stops to look at you, his kitten lips parted.

“Wait,” he replied, and you shook your head immediately.

“No”, you protest, but his arms pull away and he sits taking up most of the space on your twin size bed.

“I don’t know that I can do this”, he says, and you’re hurt by his honesty. You hug yourself, looking away, thinking maybe this was all a big mistake: you coming here. He catches the sudden change in your disposition. “I love you”, he hurries to say, “I’m just-- I have a lot going on. Like a lot...” He runs a hand through his hair almost overwhelmed just by his thoughts.

You shake your head slightly again. “Should I leave?” 

He takes your hand in yours. “Babe, no…” 

“‘Cause everything fucking sucks here for me”, you continue. “So what’s the point of me staying?”

There’s a silence between the both of you, you know he’s thinking of retaliating but holding it in. You leave the bed and walk towards your window, opening it up to realize that rain clouds were quickly approaching.

“You think it’s easy for me?” He finally spoke. You turn to face him, sitting at the edge of the bed with his head hanging low between his knees, his tone the most serious you’d ever heard. “Shit sucks”, he spat out. “People look at me like I don’t belong here and I’m trying so fuckin’ hard just to be half as good as some of the member, just so they won’t fucking-- mock me or whatever. I’ve had a really fuckin’ hard time too, okay”. 

You feel slightly guilty and manipulative, and you regrets your words immediately. "I'm sorry", you say as you come to sit down next to him again. "I didn't even think about that". You take a deep breath before continuing. "But I'm here for you, now. Fuck it if people talk shit about us", you say in a whisper, more to yourself, so that you can believe it and bring yourself up to be a better friend for him. "I understand that you got a lot on your plate, I do. I know how important this is, because you're still here." You place a gentle hand on his forearm. "I want to be here for you." 

He nods before he turns his head to give you another look, his own hand squeezing yours on his arm still. 

"Fuck it, right?"

"Fuck it", you reply, a smile taking over your lips, and his quickly approaching. You kiss again, and this time there's no need to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> don't judge me too harshly i know this isn't very good lol but i'll try to keep writing and maybe i'll improve?!? who knows.


End file.
